


Whore

by MiloBettany



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, BDSM, Beating, Chastity Device, Crossdressing, F/M, Oral Sex, Pegging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9984575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiloBettany/pseuds/MiloBettany
Summary: Tom sees his therapist for a while now. At one point she decides to change his therapy. Maybe she can help him with his narcistic disorder and other kinds of personal weaknesses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeaaaaah, I need to relieve some steam.  
> Enlish is not my native language so please bear with my mistakes, I promise to edit it as soon as I find a reliable writing program.  
> I hope you enjoy it anyway and looking forward hearing from you ;)
> 
> Have fun!

“It.... is not that simple”, he says and looks concentrated down to the floor.

For several years he comes to her to talk, to rampant about fans, to cry when his insecurities take over again. She never complained about him in front of her colleagues. She always kept her thoughts to herself, but today was the day she can´t hold her back.

“So, why are you doing it then?” she asks sharply, narrows her eyes and observes the lean presence in front of her.

Again he was talking about his libido, about his urge to have sexual contact without even knowing the people. In his position it´s easy to get someone for mindless sex, but he becomes more and more mindless in his doings. This time he talks about unprotected sex while having a gang bang with different women and men.

She is angry. Not in a motherly concerned way. Sometimes she cannot prevent to be shocked by his open stupidity.

Tom shrinks with his shoulders and looks ashamed at her. His narrow lips are pressed together and his blue eyes are watery, wet and the hidden waterfall will soon break free.

She never saw a man so beautifully in tears, like Tom.

“I feel just so...”, he begins and stops himself, biting his lower lips and the first tears drop down, sink in the thick fabric of his jeans he wears today.

She pauses, can see the words circling in his mind as he tries to find the best expression to describe his emotional state. He is very eloquent about everything and everyone- except himself...

“I feel overpowered.” he says and looks at her.

“Overpowered...Who overpowers you, Tom?” she asks further and

“Myself...”, he mumbles and straightens his back a bit, runs his hand over his face and looks straight at her. “I´m overpowered by the fact how simple I get what I want. How willing people get to satisfy my urges if I just ask nicely enough...”

His look has something searching, something begging something she cannot point out.

He is so beautiful in his suffering; she can taste his pain like sweet wine on her tongue. If she could just taste his sadness from his lips.

“You have this look”, he mumbles further and cleans his throat.

Surprised she raises an eyebrow lays her head slop.

“Sometime you look so grim and earnest at me, while in thought. Like you´d try to hide from the world what you are thinking.” he says smiles this tiny shy smile while his cheeks blush lightly.

How could she tell him? Tell him about her deepest thoughts and desires?

“We know each o... or more you know me for about five years know. You helped me with many problems and guided my through crisis after crisis and still, I don´t know you...”he says and takes a deep breath.

“I´m your psychiatrist, Tom...” she smiles. “You pay me for my services...”

Tom feels like a child, like asking for more knowledge about her was a stupidity just a youngster would try.

“Would you tell me your opinion about me anyways?” he asks, suddenly hurt, disappointed in his ability to express his wishes without embarrassing himself in front of her. She was always this stern and strict person, emotionless towards his pain, objective when he could not be it.

She thinks about it, sees an opportunity she never hoped to receive. She knows that it would be ruthless to use him like this, to use him to satisfy her deepest wish she hid since she saw him the first time, saw him in one of his earliest projects.

For a short moment she hesitates, tries to consider every bad what could happen from the words which bubble up in her throat.

But in the end she doesn´t cares.

“You are a dumb, arrogant, love hungry idiot...” she begins, observes every emotion in his face as her words hit him harder and harder. “You are so desperate for being loved that it is nearly ridiculous. And while you´re trying to satisfy other people’s needs you are so eager to please yourself. You are a joke, a beautiful, intelligent, deep emotionally joke.”

Dumbstruck he stares as her, his mouth lightly open as her words sink deeper and deeper.

“You surround yourself with so many beautiful and extraordinary women, some more some less dignified. And still you are alone in the end, because you can´t put the happiness and satisfaction of other over your own...”

“I´m sorry...” he says, thick tears rolling down his cheeks. He´s not apologizing to her, more to the universe.

She smiles and sighs. After her words he won’t be as open to her as he used to. Maybe he will stop coming to her all together. His face is now pale and empty, her words sinking deeper and deeper.

“So what do you suggest?” he asks looks up at her with his empty gaze.

With a deep sight she closes he eyes, considers her next step. Since she´s convinced that she lost him as a patient any way, why not testing the waters for more?

“You need someone who guides your desires... fulfills them and forces you to back down from your self-serving habits. Someone who has the power to force you in adoration for something else than yourself...” she softly smiles, her eyes lingering over his lean muscles. The bodybuilding he does for a while now makes him more tempting in his appearance.

His shocked sadness seems to be at bay as he answers her look, a narrow smile on his lips. He can´t change it, his arrogance kicks in and forces his walls up. He won´t see her after that like before.

“You mean a mistress.” he says mockingly and crosses his long legs.

“If you want to call it that.” she smiles and hits him with an open smile.

Tom´s mime is now grim, nearly angry, as he thinks about her words and breaks into calm laugher. “That is the conclusion for my problems?” he asks with this snotty smile what makes the little girls going crazy.

She refuses to answer his patronizing behavior. To react how she deeply wishes to.

A stroke over his beautiful face could fix this childish behavior, she thinks.

“Maybe we should end the session at this point.”, she mumbles and gets up, steps to her desk and pauses in front of the wide window which gives her a full eye of Hyde Park.

“I will contact you about our next appointment.” he says dryly. His heavy steps are followed by the closing door.

How unfortunate that she won´t see him ever again, she thinks with a bitter smile.

 

-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

He brought her presents over the years. Fine pralines and sweet wine from France and Italy. Luxurious soaps from Greece and expensive perfumes from Spain.

It was never a try to court her, she realized at one point. Just his way to thank her for her help.

She never enjoyed his presents, stocked them in a shelve in her bedroom, always smiling when seeing the fine wrapped packages and bows.

And now, a week after their last session, she sits on her bed, wrapped in a silk robe he brought her from China and eats one praline after another, enjoys the delicious sweetness, the artful mixture of herbs and honey, while she takes sips from a bottle of wine.

She misses him, misses the casual contact he granted her in his absence, the occasional e-mails he has sent her.

When he has finished the first package she opens the next one. Tastes the pure chocolate from Peru he brought her from his vacations.

This asshole has a fine taste, she thinks, enjoying the anger and desperation he makes her feel.

She has never met a man who discusses and fascinates her at the same time. She shouldn´t have those thoughts about him, she knows it. She knows that she loses her last bit of professionalism about him.

But thinking about him, how he lies shivering, begging, hurting at her feet, all sweaty and drenched in his own semen while she takes his body again and again...

She feels it drop behind her legs, feels anticipation in her body which makes her angry even more.

With a huff she gets up, shivers as the soft fabric of her robe tickles her harden nipples.

She needs a man, as soon as possible. Maybe she should call her former colleague Geoffrey. He was always available for some Netflix and chill. And his manhood is impressive, also are his language skills.

Looking for her phone she wanders through her apartment.

As she finally finds the searched for device the ring of her door bell makes her startling.

It´s 10.50 pm. Why might that be?

With a deep grumpiness she opens the door with a wide swing and pauses in her planed rant about disturbances at night.

There he is, dressed in a fine suit, his hair well done, the cheeks lightly blushed and the eyes glassy.

“I hate you...” he says.

She searched for any sign of tipsiness but even she smelled some alcohol in his breath, he obviously not drunk.

“Would you like to come in?” she asks and makes a step aside.

With a deep look at her he enters the apartment, stares at her as he pauses in middle of the living room and chews on his words which will burst out any moment.

But instead of saying something, he waits till she closed the door and comes nearer.

Shocked he looks at her, observes her naked body, hardly covered in the present he gave her a few years ago. She looks so tempting, so introducing. He can smell wine, and the perfume he gave her as a present, and he is convinced, if he just tastes her lips he will enjoy sweetest chocolate and spices from them.

“So, would you express your feeling please? So that I can follow you?” she asks with an expecting smile, sits down on the arm rest of her sofa and looks openly at him.

“You... you said this thinks and the only think I want to do now is.... is...” he bursts out and pauses before he finishes the sentences.

“What would you like to do?” she asks, aware that she is opening Pandora´s box. But her desperation and curiosity gets the best of her.

Tom seems to think about it for a second, about what to say, to do. But then he pauses, and she can see him stomping at her in slow motion, the animalistic intentions clear in his blue eyes. But before he could even touch her, wrap his arms around her waist, she slaps his face. Harsh, without hesitation, and makes him stops with spread arms, his eyes wide open as his cheeks get colored in a fresh pink.

For a moment she´s shocked. Did she really do that?

The burning of her hand gives her the answer.

“You just did not...” he hisses and looks down at her, his eyes narrowed, the anger rising up in his belly like a storm.

“Shut up...” she says calm.

Her appearance is a lie. Everything in her body is in alert. Her heart pounds like a hammer and she has no idea how to save this situation.

If she plays it right, she might get what she wanted for so long.

Slowly Tom takes down his arms and looks at her icy, his lips pale as he smiles cool at her.

They stare at each other in silence, everyone considering their option.

“How could you even think I would allow you to touch me?” she says, smiling softly.

Surprised by her question Tom takes a deep breath, all word taken from him. He never thought he would try to make advances where they are not wanted. She had every right to slap him for that.

Still answering her gaze he makes a step backwards, giving her more space to breath.

“I´m sorry!” he says remorsefully and looks down, doesn´t know how to handle the situation.


	2. Chapter 2

So, what should she do with him now?

Still shocked by her obvious agressions he stares at her with his mouth open, surprisingly comfortable in the situation.

Something rumbles in his belly. Something he never felt before, doesn´t even know how to name it.

“Unbelievable…”, she says, sounding like a outraged Nanny, her mime still stern and concentrated. “How could you even dare?”

Tom blinks a few times, not sure what to do in the situation. Laugher builts in his throat, tickles his nostrils and he has a hard time to keep it together.

She seems to think what to do next, the tension between them is undeniable and both know that this conversation wont end like their usual sessions. Suddenly Tom remembers what she said a week earlier. That he needs to find someone who makes him put their desires over his own. Why not using her for the first experiences? She taught him how to handle some stupid routines who make him more than just unhappy. Why not giving her a go with more exquisite joys?

“Obviously my mother forgot to teach me proper manners…”, he mumbles, looks shyly at his feet, feels the heat rising to his ears as her cold look hits him. Obviously he has hit a nerve with this remark.

“You think so?”, she asks, leans back and observes him in total.

It disgusts her how good he looks in his suits, all black and tight. All deliciously respectable.

It´s like he´d beg to be ruined.

“Yes, I think so.”, he answers, his voice rusty with anticipation. “I really…misbehaved…”

Tom´s ears are ringing, his blood rushes through his veins like hot lava. He never thought about being the passive one in any sexual way. Of course he had his fine share of encounters, tried several games and plays and technics. But this one thing never occurred to him. He is to demanding in bed as he could give the control to someone else. Maybe that’s exactly what he needs to learn. To give over control.

Her eyes light up by his words.

Her mime still stern her eyes smile and shine and make him feel proud of his bravery. He always had a soft spot for her, saw the lingering looks in his back, when she thought he wouldn’t see it. She wanted him, and he liked her.

After that they wouldn´t be the same, that he knows for sure.

“Well then…”, she mumbles after a while. “Some punishment is in order, I guess.”

Slowly she gets up, leads the way through the hall in her bedroom, without an invitation to follow her.

Tom goes anyways. Slowly he sneaks through the hallway, stares at her back, his heart still pounding. What will she do? What does he want her to do?

His member is already in rage, presses demanding against the soft fabric of his trousers and soft goose bumps cover his body. He is hot, his skin feels too tight and the usually soft fabric feels raw and itchy on his skin.

He wants to rip his clothes off, present himself to her, like she never saw him. He often cried and pleaded in front of her, desperate for comfort. But now he wants her to see him in a different way, fully naked and unprotected by manners and education.

He enters her living room, observes the black lace and white wallpapers. The room is full with books, ceiling high shelves, a dressing table in one corner.

It looks all feminine and intelligent.

His eyes fall on her, leaning against a sideboard opposite the door. She holds something in her hands, something lean and black. Tom steps closer, his eyes fixed on the device. When he´s close enough to understand what she is holding an iced shiver runs down his spine, bundles together as a hot knot in his belly and makes his heart jumpy again.

“Why you aren´t undressed?”, she ask with a tone that suggest his obvious stupidity.

Why hasn´t he undressed indeed, he thinks and huffs, opens button after button of his shirt and let the proper pressed fabric fall to the ground in a black and white pile.

The cool air in the room hits his naked skin with a delicious sharpness, like blunt teeth nibbling at his skin.

Her eyes are not staring. She has this unexpected way of observing. When she looks at him it seems like she would fix something behind his back, not himself directly. At first he was irritated but then he understood. She is not staring at him, she is staring in him.

Self-concious he unbuttons his trousers and lets them fall on the floor.

There he is now, nacked, sans everything, just his simple presence in the middle of an unknown room.

She smiles, the lips soft and inviting as she steps slowly closer, circles him with slowly movements and grants his body a full scan. No pimple or scar is hidden from her eyes.

Surprisingly, he is not was she expected.

Pausing directly in front of him she looks up and smiles, still, now more threatening than inviting.

“Why are you looking like this?”, he asks wary, swallows hard, not sure if he wants to know the answer. The last time she spoke her mind she hit right home, has hurt his feeling deeper than he would ever admit.

Maybe it´s his proud who forces him to be in her presence again, maybe this tiny litte male ashole every man has in his deepest core, who makes him believe he is better, more worth than every woman.

Fortunately he never minded this tiny brick in the background, growing up with sisters and a single-mom has its advantanges still.

“Kneel…” The word comes unexpected and is the last thing he ever thought she would say. It wa his most favmous line from the Marvel Movies and always a parody worth during interviews. But now it has a totally different meaning.

Slowly he sinks down, stares at the dark fabric in front of him as his sight is in one line with her silk covered belly.

“Good boy…”, she smirks and one warm hand is placed on his head, runs through his with wet gel covered hair and loosens the unruly locks. “Lift your hands…”, she mumbles and he does as she asks.

With his palms upwards he looks at her as she places something light in them.

It is a crop.

Not one of this firm, decorative tools people buy for horrendous sums in sex shops, hardly usable for a proper beating. It is a leather one, the sweet smell tickles his nostrils as he stares at it irritated.

“I had a horse ones..:”, she sighs and has a seat on the bed, her eyes resting on the crop with a sad, dreamy smile. “Unfortunately I had to give him away…”

Tom nods and crinkles his forehead, flicks his tongue and looks expecting at her.

Maybe he underestimated her interests. Maybe he should have paid more attention to her person.

Or was it even obvious that she is into stuff like that?

“So you want me to…”, he starts and looks at her, who breaks into loud laugher.

“Of course you think that I wish you to punish me…”, she smiles and shakes her head. “You are the one who misbehaved.” With this statement she gets up and steps closer again, looks down at him. “Do you really want to know what I think about you, Tom?”, she asks with a soft voice, leans down so her breath teases his earlobes and delicious goose bumps crawl down his spine.

He simply nods, his throat dry from the mere thought of punishment. He honestly doesn´t know if he is going to like what she will tell him.

She looks in his eyes, face on face, her forehead leans against his. Her breath tastes like chocolate and wine, like sweet pleasures he hopes to be able to enjoy from her lips.

“You are a whore…”

Irritated by her words he leans backwards, tries to bring some distance between himself and her and pauses shocked in his movements as he sees her icy gace.

“Would you at least explain your opinion?”, he asks, a mild anger rising in his chest.

“You are like a whore who enjoys working the streets…”, she begins and starts to circle him again, her voice missing every softness. “You use people. For, in my opinion questionable, fame and sex, and money, and fun, and everything useless in this world. You suck the life and money out of them. And after you´ve sated yourself your hunger comes back even more ravenous, more forcing and you complain about people who can´t satisfy you as fast as you need it. Have you ever done something for someone else than you since you became famous?”, she asks and stops in front of him again. 

“The world is not circling around you, Tom. People are not made to feed your under-developed self-esteem. It is a give and take out there and it is time that you give…”

Tom hurts. All. To take a breath feels like inhaling needle. His stomach burns like he had swallowed gasoline who eats its way through his intestines. Why would she say something like that?

He does a lot for others.

Supporting UNICEF, the feminism movement, Save the children…

“And if you even think about this lousy appearances with UNICEF or getting photographed with a silly shirt for women´s rights… that’s just your way of self-portrayal you use to attract more victims you can use. “, she finishes and straightens her back again, looks at the crop in his hands with a wondering gaze.

Tom thinks about her words, they hurt more than he thought. He always thought of himself as an engaged person in supporting social projects.

But now he wasn´t sure anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

Is this even a game anymore, he wonders and looks at her.

How should he react? How reacts someone who is laid bare in front of oneself? He feels a knot growing in his stomach, tears lingering in his eyes.

Does she mean what she says? Or is this just a morbid way of playing, some kind of pervert kink she addresses him with?

She answers his gaze, still smiling, her mime not giving away anything what could cure his wonder and frustration. He can feel the desire freeze in his guts, the unknown passion which rose earlier now more and more subsided.

“How do you feel, Tom?”, she asks and sits back on the bed, stares at him, the observing gaze of a schooled professional. It must be a kind, if she switches between roles so unexpectedly.

“I feel awful…”, he answers short and attempts to get up, but a warm hand stops his movement, makes him pause in surprise and a strange comfort spreads in his body. She is petting his shoulder, scratches softly over his skin and massages the firm muscle tenderly.

“Can I do something to make you feel better?”, she asks and comes closer presses her in silk covered chest against his side and breathes soft kisses on his cheek. 

With a confused look he answers her seductive smile. He can`t unerstand how a person can go from bitch to sweet poison in les than a few seconds. Her last words still hurt in his stomach and the knot in his throat is still present. 

Maybe he should go, maybe stay away from her. This situation is so surreal, so unexplainable. 

“What are your plans now? What were you plan in the first place?”, he ask with a sore throat, ting not to cry exhausted him. 

“I wanted to punish you”, she answers plainly, her arms still wrapped around his shoulders, her body still close and warm and deliciously tempting. 

She uses his word- punishment- a lot. But still h has no idea what she means.

“How?’ He ask further, sill curious in his sadness. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. If you feel up to it, I would rather show it to you.”

Her words sink slowly in, awakening something in his belly hat tingles and jumps. 

Looking a the crop he is sure she will make him hurt, a lot. 

With the explanations he need she gets up and takes the tool from his hands an points with its flat end down to the floor in front of the bed. 

“Please kneel down”, she says, always this expecting look in her face. 

Slowly he sinks down, feels the soft carpet under his feet and shivers without knowing why. She softly pets his cheek, her thumb caresses his skin lovingly as her eyes examine him like he is the most beautiful thing she ever saw.

Slowly she lets her hand run through his hair while a wave of excitement and anticipation hits him. 

“I don't want to hurt you per se…”, she mumrbles. “But a bit of pain can be quite relaxing and arousing sometimes.”

Tom knows what she means, knows the kind of pain which makes people cry in exhausted excitement. 

“What will be your safe word?”, she asks and smiles, the tip of one finger running over his lips. 

 

Tom thought about it. He had asked this kind of question several times, several people, but never thought someone would adress him with this kind of words.

Was he safe? Was he secure in her presence? Could he trust her?

“Shakespeare...”, he mumbles, his heart jumping with every letter which leaves his tongue.

He feels giddy, jumpy, his skin crawls as her fingernails scratch down his neck.

“Bend over the bed...Hands on the matress.”

Her voice is soft, raw. Something has changed in her appearance. She is calmer now, more relaxed.

Tom does as she wishes, the soft cover of the sheetd press against his chest as he beds himself flat on them, knees lightly parted and still on the floor.

He tries to calm himself, eyes pressed shut and his lips lightly parted the sound of his own breaths loud like stormy winds in the silence of the room.

“Relax...”, her voice sounds like she´s on the other side of the room, observing him, enjoying the view.

Soft steps coming closer, pause behind him.

He can feel her gaze runing over his body, every muscle spasms with the running feeling.

“You are a masterpiece...”, she whispers and soon after something cool strokes down his spine.

It is the tongue of the crop, which slides between his buttocks, over his rim, taps softly the underside of his balls so they climb deep in his lower body, like they try to hide from future pain.

“No worries... They are to cute to be damaged...”, she whispers as she she squats down, behind him, the naked skin of her thighs touching his.

Her hands crawl down his spine, scratch over his goose bumps before she slaps his buttocks with a playful giggle.

“Your bum is cute…”, she states and gets up again, stands behind him, the crop back in hand, bending it in half to flex the leather. “Are you ready?”

Tom doesn´t know. Is he ready? Ready for what exactly? She will beat him with the tool in her hand, that´s for sure, and it will hurt, certainly. But does he want it? I she ready for the pain?

He hurts inside already? Maybe some help on the surface will help?

Before he even could state some disagreement a sharp whizz hits his ear before biting pain rushes through his left buttock.

The air gets pressed out of his lungs and hot tears gather in his eyes.

He is surprised. The pain is not as bad as he thought, at first a bite, then heat spreading over his skin. He can feel the pulse of his flesh drumming through is body. Actually it is quite exciting.

The next hit follows short after. And again, the bite, the heat, the tingling sensation running through his groin.

His whole behind is hot and pumping, his hands claw in the sheets without him noticing it. He misses to count the hits, does not care how many she will give him. As long as it stays like this, he could go on for ever.

Suddenly serious pain overcomes him and forces him to a loud cry. His own mewl echoes loud in his ears as his first reflex is to flee.

“Keep still”, she commands, her voice warm and soft, a tender contrast to the next move which hits him.

Five more he receives, his voice breaking through the silence.

He feels embarrassed, as he is aware of the hot tears streaming down his face. His behind burns like fire ants had bitten and peed on him without end. The muscles of his legs shiver and the sheets are lightly ripped from his cramped fists.

She sits next to him, looks at him in a calm silence which irritates him.

He continues to cry like a baby, savours the humiliation like the finest wine.

“We are not done…”, she says and smiles, her face lightly blushed in the warm light of her night stand.

Painfully he takes one breath after the other, tries to calm his nerves.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he is not into it, as soon as he´s on the receiving site. 

Looking at her he doens´t know what to say, what to do. Her look has something calming, encouraging. 

“I´m surprised you like it…”, she smiles and lets the tip of the crop slid between his legs, taps softly against his hard member who twitches in anticipation. 

A surprised moan leaves his lips as he stares down at himself. His rod jumps up and down, like it wants to greet him, showing him that he observations about himself were truly wrong. His heart pumps faster, the palm of his hands become wet as he leans back , the back straight and head held high. 

The tears are dried on his face, cover his checks with salty stains she observes adoringly. He is so proud in his suffer, it´s just beautiful. 

“So what are we doing next?”, he asks, nearly harsh, demanding. He wants to force her to make the next move. The whole situation makes him angry, the pain of his buttocks makes him angry, her absent calmness makes him angry. 

With a thin smile she moves herself in front of him, parts her legs and waves the fabric asite to present him her glistening folds. 

The sweet smell of her wetness tickles his nose, waters his mouth and the urgent need to press his lips against her crotch blinds him with lust. 

Moaning throaty he leans forward, ready to take her with his tongue as a harsh slap in his face stops him immediately.   
Blinking surprised he stares baffled at her, her mime still relaxed and calm. 

“Did I allow you to taste me?”, she asks, still smiling, the crop in on hand, the other softly redding from the slap. 

Tom just shakes his head. 

“Well, why did you do it then?”, she asks slightly annoyed and gets up, stands in front of him, crop still in hand.

Tom shrinks his shoulder. He doesn´t know anything anymore. 

“Lay on your back…”, she mumbles and starts to unfasten her robe, exposes her nudeness to the warm light of the night stand. Observing every inch of her body he falls slowly back, feels his member painfully vibrate between his legs. 

He wants to ravish her, take her in any position known to the mankind. 

She is all beautiful and soft, her round hips made to be held, her soft belly with just the right amount of chubbiness created to be kissed and softly bitten. Her breast move with every calm breath she takes, the nipples dark and inviting for soft lips and cheeky teeth. 

“You are beautiful…”, he mumbles, laying flat on his back, arms next to his body.His finger paint circles over the soft surface, imagining to touch her skin in this way. 

“Thank you…”, she mumbles and steps slowly next to him, crotches over his head, her swollen lips spread, the deep red of her inner lips hovering over his mouth. Close enough to smell it, too far away to just take it. 

He knows the she won´t appreciate it if he just forces his lips onto her. She would punish him again and to be honest he has enough of beatings for this evening. 

With a satisfied smile she sinks lower, presses her sex suddenly against his lips while her breath leaves shakingly her body. She leans back, steadies herself with one hand on his chest, the other still holds the crop. 

“Now be a good boy and relieve me…”, she sighs and moans deliciously as tom does what she asked for, enters her with the tip of his tongue to paint lazy circles over her inner lips. 

She tastes like caramel and salt, the clear fluid spreads on his lips and cheeks as she starts to ride his face, rubs her plump pearl against the tip of his nose, leads his tongue wherever she wants it. 

Her movements become faster and shakier, the nails of her fingers press into his sweaty skin of his chest as she comes with a nearly painful scream. Creamy spurts of her juice fills his mouth as he stares up to her, sees her red face, the shiny sweat pearls on her forehead, the swollen lips she worried with her teeth, trying not to give more than necessary away of her joy. 

She pauses on his face, rests her pulsing sex on his mouth while he labs her juices from her core. 

“You will go now…”, see says blunt and gets up, grabs her robe and gets dressed again. 

Irritated Tom stares at the ceiling. Maybe he misheard? 

Suddenly angry again he jumps up, wants to shout at her. How could she treat him like this? What did he do to her?

She answers his rageful mime with her usual calmness. 

“You are forbidden to touch yourself today, do you understand?”, she says and looks at his member, smacks her lips and gives it two mild slaps with teh tip of the crop. 

The pain forces Tom to his knees, the blood, which pumped angrily in the veins of his rod seems to disappear shocked upon this harsh treatment. Before he could even disapprove she wraps some heavy metal around it, closes the thing with a loud sound and looks down at him. 

In disbelief he stares between his legs. “Chastity cage?”, he asks confused, his mind fuzzy with pain. 

“I don´t trust you…”, she states and leaves the room. “I will call you…”

She doesn´t look back before she disappeared behind a door. 

Tom kneels there for a while, stares at the shiny metal between his legs, his rod pulses painfully because of the slaps and he can´t even rub it to relieve the discomfort. 

The ring fits tight around its base, prevents any blood to fill the needy muscle. 

She expects him to be gone when she is back. 

He feels like arguing, crying, sleeping and graves for a good steak. 

So he gets up, knees shaky, bum raw. With painful sighs he climbs in his clothes, feels suddenly older than he is. 

She will call him, he thinks as he closes the apartment door behind him. 

He is not sure if he wants to see her again.


End file.
